YellowHaired, BlueEyed Bunnies
by umm-anthea
Summary: It all started with a joke. WIP
1. Heart Cooks Brain

I didn't even notice it until Stan made a joke and I unexpectedly took it seriously.

* * *

We're talking quietly in the library over the homework Stan is supposed to be helping me with, when we somehow stumble onto the topic of how everyone is still friends even after middle school.

Once high school started, we all meshed our groups into one in order to survive the first months of hell. In the end, it all worked out great for the kids in our grade. Stan and Cartman made friends with the upperclassmen by joining the football team and lacrosse team; Kyle joined the swim team with Stan, Craig, Token, and Clyde; and I ran track all year round with the girls and Butters. Even Tweek found his calling during freshmen year. Craig _somehow _convinced him to lay off the caffeine for a while and take up something else. In the end, Tweek found the Art Club and spent most of his time painting or sketching in his sketchpad instead of being cracked out on caffeine. By the time our first year of high school ended, we were all tightly knit with each other and a number of the upperclassmen (which improved our chances of getting invited to a kegger or two).

Stan and I are talking about how much time I sped with Butters on a daily basis. I hadn't really thought about the time we spent with each other since all nine of us are pretty much inseparable. Hell, everyone can tolerate Cartman now, even Kyle. (Hard to believe, but at least they don't attempt to kill each other like they used to. It's more of Cartman crossing out every fifth word in every book of Kyle's he could get his hands on and Kyle retaliating by skillfully taking the radio out of Cartman's truck and then proceeding to throw it in the swimming pool.) We still have our "alone time" with our respective groups every once in a while and since Butters was never really a part of either group, he was taken in by both. We bounce Butters from group to group every weekend like divorced parents do with their children. We, however, have full custody over our "kid," so we call the shots: who gets what, when, and where.

Oh, Butters.

"So… You and Butters have been spending a lot of time with each other lately, hmmm?" Stan was never one to blatantly tell me something.

"Well, yeah. We _are_ friends, Stanley," I don't know what he's trying to get at here, but I'm obviously not understanding him.

"Sweet, you should bang him." I choked on my own spit.

"What?! I can't believe you just said that," I was caught off guard and took a joke seriously. Now, I'm blushing. Me, Kenny McCormick, blushing over a joke that I should have laughed at. Is the world coming to an end? Is hell freezing over? Are pigs flying? Someone needs to check.

Stan laughs; I see pure amusement in his clear blue eyes and can only imagine the expression on my face. "It was a joke, Ken."

I finally beat my blush down into submission. "I know. You just caught me off guard." Stan snickers and mutters what sounds like "for once" under his breath.

"Anyway, what are you doing after track? It's Friday and I want to party like a rock star," Stan asks, ignoring my glare completely.

"I'm giving Butters a ride home, but after that I'm free as a bee," I laugh a little at my rhyme and Stan rolls his eyes.

"How nice of you," he states with a small smirk on his face.

"You know he's on the way to my house; everyone is. So, it's more convenient of me, but yes."

"Well, aren't you just a stand up gentleman. Butters should have many babies with you," Stan all but bursts out in laughter when I throw my pen at him.

"You can invite Butters if you'd like, Kenneth," Stan says slyly, grinning like a loon, now.

"I would if I knew what I was inviting him to, _Stanley_," I say sweetly.

"Token is throwing his 'end of Swim Team season' party tonight. We, of course, are all invited," he explains just as the bell to signal the end of school rings.

I smile like a jackal and nod my head 'yes.' I gather my things, shove everything unceremoniously into my bag, and sling the bag over my shoulder before making my way silently to the boy's locker room. The entire walk there, I think about how unexpectedly I reacted to Stan's joke. By the time I reach the doors to the locker room, I've come to a conclusion: I secretly want to bang Butters.

* * *

**(A/N): Part of that conversation actually happened between me and one of my good friends last night. I obviously tweeked it a bit to fit the situation, but that's basically how the conversation went. **

**Love!.**


	2. Long Distance Drunk

**(A/N): Didn't expect to keep this story going, but it got a lot of hits over the weekend. This is just a teaser chapter and I'm also posting this story under my account on adultfanfiction (ginger240 is my name there) in case it gets too explicit to post on here. Just a reminder: Reviews and Alerts are both welcome. With that said... Please Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own, No profit, so Don't sue.**

Every summer, since as long as I can remember, I have worked at an auto mechanic shop to earn some semblance of an income. I knew my parents couldn't really afford to support me, so I decided to stop the vicious circle and actually make something out of my life (And, if by chance I happen to have kids, I didn't want them to end up in the hell hole in which I was brought up). I ended up making enough money over the course of many years to buy myself a beat-up, old, blue pick-up truck by the time I had my driver's permit. Every birthday and holiday since, my group of friends has pitched in a little bit of money and hard labor to fix my truck little by little.

One summer, Craig, Cartman, and Stan helped me smooth my baby's body out every day until we could finally get it repainted. It doesn't look as good as new, but it sure as shit doesn't look like someone took a sledge hammer to it. My weekends were spent under the hood of my truck at the shop I worked at, spending hours trying to fix it up the best I could. Eventually, with a shit ton of help from my friends and co-workers, we got my truck to get from point A to point B without breaking down, spewing smoke out of the engine, tires falling off, or refusing to start. And now that it isn't an embarrassing piece of shit, I drive it everywhere I can; including driving to and from school and practice with Butters riding shotgun.

Speaking of which, that's exactly what I'm doing right now. Track practice ended five minutes ago and I still haven't asked Butters if he wants to come to Token's party tonight. We're on our way to Butters' house, silently and comfortably listening to Modest Mouse, warming our hands against the heat vents. (Token and I just managed to get the heat working again in my truck last month.)

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Butters shivering slightly with his fingers pressed flat against the vents and his hood drawn tight around his head and face. I frown silently to myself, reach behind the small space behind his seat, grab my orange parka, and toss it over his small frame. He jumps slightly, snapping his head to the left to stare at me before grinning, mumbling a tiny "thanks" through the fabric of his hood. I laugh when he zips the parka all the way up to cover half his face, reminding me of when I used to wear my parka just like that. We drive amicably for another five minutes before I reach my hand out to turn the music down a notch as I turn into the Stotch's driveway. This is my last chance.

"Hey, what are you doing tonight?" I ask nonchalantly.

"Oh, um, well, I dunno. Why do ya ask?" His response is muffled, but, after years of speaking like that myself, it sounds crystal clear to my ears.

"Token is throwing his party tonight. You should come with me."

Butters has thrown both hoods back by now and there's still a slight blush to his cheeks. "Aw, geez, Kenny. I don't think my parents will let me," he states, slumping in his seat just a fraction.

I lean over so my face is directly in front of his and allow a devious smirk to slip onto my face before saying, "Fuck your parents, Butters. How old are you, now? Here's what we're gonna do: I'm going to come inside with you, you're going to completely ignore your parents and go to your room with your bags and wait for me there, while I tell your parents that you're spending the night with me and they're going to accept it as it is because they, for some fucked up reason, trust you with me. Understood?" Butters has a tiny grin on his face by the time I finish and he can't help but let out a nervous, but highly amused giggle.

"Yessir. Oh, hamburgers. I hope we don't get caught." I laugh at his comment and give him a look that says 'Since when have I ever gotten you in trouble?' before turning the truck off. Butters hurriedly grabs his things from the bed of the truck as I walk up to the door and open it. As soon as we walk into the house, the warmth bombards us pleasantly and I close the door promptly to keep the cold air outside. Mrs. Stotch pokes her head out from the kitchen and greets us with a cheerful hello while Mr. Stotch waves his hand from his position on the couch. I steer Butters towards the stairs and give him a tiny push before I casually walk into the kitchen to grab the hot cocoa Mrs. Stotch always has handy for me when I drop Butters off. I smile gratefully as I take a long sip before I move to sit down at the kitchen table.

I place the mug onto the table top and fix my eyes on Mrs. Stotch before saying as sweetly as I can, "Mrs. Stotch, would it possibly be alright if I have Butters over for the night? We haven't had a slumber party in forever and I was just wondering if…" I let the rest of the sentence fade off as I look pleadingly up into her face before dropping my gaze to my cocoa. Shyness and innocence gets you everywhere with Mrs. Stotch. I know I've gotten my way before she even opens her mouth because her face lights up like Christmas came a month early.

"Oh, that would be wonderful, Kenny!" she exclaims, obviously pleased that she's getting her son out of the house for the night. I grin back at her before grabbing my still hot mug of cocoa to take up to Butters' room.

When I reach his door, I open it without knocking and stop dead. There, with his back towards me, in the middle of his room, Butters has stripped off the many layers he wore for track practice, leaving him standing in his tiny Hello Kitty boxers and knee-high, white tube socks. If I didn't want to bang him before, I certainly do now, as I imagine those sock-clad legs wrapped around my waist. I clear my throat with a clearly amused and hastily hidden lust-filled look on my face, enjoying the way Butters squeaks as he whips around to face me. I walk in the room completely and kick the door shut before casually sitting down on his bed to continue sipping at my hot cocoa. Butters still hasn't spoken, although the blush that's spreading across his cheeks speaks volumes. I look him up and down once before shaking my head in amusement and to clear the images flashing through my mind.

"Hello Kitty boxers, Butters?" There is laughter in my voice that I can't seem to keep out and Butters glares at me momentarily before turning around again to walk towards his closet.

"For you information, Kenny, I really like Hello Kitty. And I don't care if people laugh at me," Butters states while shifting through the clothes in his closet.

"It's cute. You should just wear that to the party," I say quite sincerely, though I'm quite sure Butters thinks I'm making fun of him because he huffs loudly and continues his search in his closet.

"What're you wearin', Ken?" His voice trails out from the closet and he's on his hands and knees, ass in the air and I suddenly can't breathe.

I choke on my words for a second, tilting my head to the side to get a better look at his ass. I finally manage to mumble, "'M not wearing anything special. Pair of jeans, a hoodie, and shoes are all I need."

Butters finally comes out of his closet with an armful of clothes. He unexpectedly drops them right on top of me and tells me not to move; apparently he needs my opinion on all of the outfits he's picked out. What is he, my girlfriend?

The first set of clothes he puts on are a pale magenta fitted tee with a Hello Kitty zip-up hoodie thrown over top. The hoodie is all white with red cuffs and draw strings, the black markings of the kitten's face and little yellow nose positioned near the top center of his chest. On his legs are tight-in-all-the-right-places jeans that sit low on his hips. He swivels around 360 degrees and holds out his arms with his head cocked to the side, all innocence and blue eyes.

"Wuddya think?" he asks excitedly, waiting for me to answer.

"Too many clothes. Next."

He pouts, but strips off his clothes again, putting on outfit #2: cut-off, white-washed jeans that come just above his knees and cling to his hips as if they'd fall off at any moment, with a short sleeved, bright blue hoodie (that had a picture of that little cat in the lower right hand corner), and a plain white tee-shirt underneath. He repeats his early "what do you think" pose and raises one of his eyebrows.

"Keep the jeans, lose the hoodie and tee-shirt," I say immediately.

He grins widely and grabs a tank top and hoodie that's laying halfway down my shin and shimmies into them after removing the aforementioned hoodie and tee. The tank top is a pale yellow and matches perfectly with the gray and yellow hoodie he picked out to wear with it. He doesn't spin around this time or even ask for my opinion before he gathers the rest of the clothes that are strewn across my lap, throwing them back into his closet.

"What, I don't get to say if I like it or not?" I whine a little at him with a small pout on my face.

He giggles before replying, "I already know you like it, Kenny. Now, come help me do my hair."

I give him a 'What the F…' face before complying and following him into his bathroom, disregarding the half finished, now cold cocoa on his nightstand. We spend at least another ten minutes fixing half of his bangs into a small, bright yellow barrette on one side of his head and fixing the other half of his bangs into two bobby pins: one black and one yellow.

Once Butters is done getting ready for the party, we rush back down the steps and out the door, tossing a goodbye over our shoulders to his parents, bounding straight into my truck. It takes me three minutes to get back to my house and even less time to change clothes.

By the time we arrive at Token's house, it's already 7 o'clock and the party is obviously well underway. I pull my truck up behind Stan's massive black SUV and jump out of the truck, slamming the door shut before locking it. Butters is right on my heels with a huge smile on his face, eager to get in and party. I grab his wrist and pull him into a run up the front lawn and straight through the front door where we literally run right into Cartman.

"AY! Who the sh- KENNAY!" Cartman yells at me, crushing me in one of his iron-gripped hugs. He drops me after a couple of seconds of me gasping "Can't Breathe!" and shoves a cold beer in my hands. He does a once over on Butters before a shit-eating grin slides onto his face and I can only imagine what he's thinking about. I chug half of my beer within the time it takes Cartman to look Butters up and down and open his mouth to speak.

"Butters, Kennay, let's go do some mother fucking shots now that everyone is here," He slightly slurs out and I vaguely wonder how much he's drank or smoked. He turns around and walks towards Token's kitchen, which is where I assume everyone from our group is, and I follow him draping an arm around Butters' shoulders. Butters fits snugly against my side, wrapping his arm around my waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world. We make our way into the kitchen just in time to see Craig do a body shot off of Tweek, the room exploding into laughter and cat-calls. My eyes widen momentarily, but not out of shock from seeing one of my very male, good friends do a body shot off of the very male other, but out of wonder: body shots don't usually start for another hour or so. Are we really that late?

I spot Kyle and Stan hovering over the island, pouring Burnett's Blueberry Flavored Vodka into nine shot glasses. I steer Butters towards them, eyeing the shot glasses like a predator eyes its prey. I spot mine (We each painted our names onto our favorite shot glass) in between Butters' and Tweek's glasses. My name is written in bright orange paint and under it is a little drawing of a skull and cross bones that Tweek helped me paint. The vodka is almost spilling over the sides of my glass while the vodka in the glasses on either side of mine is a little over half way filled. I smile a little: Butters and Tweek were always the light-weights. Glancing over the shot glasses, I've come to the conclusion that the level of alcohol in each glass is directly linked to how much the person who owns the cup has already had to drink. Aside from mine, only three other glasses are filled to the brim: Stan's, Kyle's, and Clyde's. Cartman's glass has a thin line of space between the brim of the glass and the liquid, and Craig's and Token's are two thirds the way full.

I take my shot glass and pass Butters his while the rest of our crew surrounds the island. The shots are passed out and on the count of three and a 'cheers' to another kick ass party courtesy of Token, we all down our shots in one go. The liquid burns as it slides down my throat and leaves a trail of fire into the pit of my stomach.

I look at Stan, who has the bottle of vodka clutched in his left hand, and say, "Another round," before finishing off the rest of my beer, chucking it across the room into one of the open trashcans that litter every room of the house. Stan and Kyle slam their glasses back onto the counter beside mine and Butters', refilling all of them to the very top. I turn to look at Butters, handing his shot glass (his name in hot pink letters and the face of Hello Kitty underneath) to him.

"You sure you can handle a whole shot, baby boy?" I taunt him with a challenging smirk on my face.

Butters narrows his eyes at me and takes the shot from me replying with, "You sure you can handle _me_?"

My smirk widens and I clink our glasses together, downing the shot before leaning forward so my lips were right next to Butters' ear, whispering, "Oh, I'm absolutely positive I can handle your pretty little ass." I slide my arm from around Butters' shoulders and walk towards the game room thinking of just how unsure I am if I really could handle that ass.

Little did I know that I would be tested that very night.


	3. The Good Times Are Killing Me

Chapter 3/?

**(A/N): So, I decided to do this earlier in the week because I have a crapload of things to do for school. Chapter number 3, unbetad, so forgive me for any silly mistakes, I tried my best to read over it carefully many times. **

**WARNING: illegal drug usage. don't get mad, kyle doesn't approve if that makes you feel any better. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Within the 30 or so minutes following my leaving Butters' side, I've chugged a couple more beers and did another shot with Cartman. Needless to say, I'm well on my way to being completely inebriated and the night hasn't even begun. I'm not quite there yet, and I luckily still have the amazing ability to stand upright without the help of a wall. I'm walking through Token's house aimlessly and as I round a corner, I come face to face with someone I haven't seen in years: _ze Mole._

I'm too not sober to keep the outright laugh from leaking out of my mouth, but I do manage to ask quite nicely, "What the fuck are you doing here, Christophe?"

He smirks at my drunkenness and smacks me quite sharply on the side of my head for calling him by his given name before he nods his head over to Gregory, who is standing just inside the room next to us, talking to someone whose name I currently can't recall. He doesn't say a word and instead leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. There's an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth and by the time I notice that I'm staring at it (and him), it's too late. His smirk is wider now and I have to struggle to fight the drunken feeling that's slowly overwhelming me.

Before I can even articulate a coherent sentence, he has his arm around me and is steering me down the hallway and into Token's family room where all of the couples are grinding against each other to the beat of the music that's making the speakers bleed. He steers me right past the dance floor and to the corner of the room where the alcohol is being dispersed. The voice in the back of my head (you know, the one that you usually ignore in favor of having fun?) sighs heavily and says a half-hearted 'No more alcohol, Kenny,' but I already know I'm going to ignore it once again. Christophe silently pours me half a shot of whiskey and pours his own glass all the way to the top. He knows I'm too drunk to match him and I feel vaguely thankful for the generosity. He glances down at me before raising his glass to clink against mine, muttering, "À la vie." I swallow my half-shot and pull a holy-shit-I-can't-believe-you-fucking-DRINK-this-shit face that makes Christophe laugh softly. His laugh dies off sooner than I thought it would and I look up at him to see what made him stop, noticing his eyes fixed on something over my shoulder. His eyes are slightly widened in wonder and I turn around (slow enough to not fall over) and immediately my eyes find the person that has caught his attention:

Butters.

Butters is dancing with Stan and Craig, and quite honestly I don't think what they're doing can even be _considered_ dancing. Butters is snugly fit in between the two dark-haired boys; his back is flush against Stan's chest and Craig is facing the both of them. Butters has one of his arms raised above his head, wrapped around Stan's neck, while the other is resting lightly against Craig's shoulder. He has his head thrown back on Stan's shoulder, bottom lip between his teeth, and suddenly I want to be the one he's dancing against. Craig's wandering hands and Stan's wandering lips make me want to _protectclaimkeep_ and it takes all of my remaining will-power and a raised eyebrow from Christophe to stop me from acting too hastily against the idea of Butters dancing with the two other boys. Instead, I keep my eyes locked on Butters' writhing body and try to assess the situation (which is quite difficult drunk and while watching Butters dance like that) from an objective stand-point. After a few moments of observation, I notice that Stan's lips are barely touching Butters' neck and Craig's hands are avoiding all places deemed inappropriate. Stan's eyes hold a tint of mischief in them and he locks eyes with me from across the room and smirks widely at me. _So, this is a game_. I raise a challenging eyebrow and immediately regret it when he takes a small bit of Butters' neck between his teeth and tugs at the same moment his hands push Butters' hips back into his. From my unfortunate position across the room, I can plainly see the way Butters arches into Stan and gasps at his ministrations. As soon as I see Craig reach his hands behind Butters to grasp his ass, pulling his small frame into Craig's much larger one, and rotate his hips -_once, twice_- I make my way across the room.

Stan immediately says something to Craig, who turns around to see me approaching and drops his grip on Butters like he's on fire, bolting out of the room while laughing hysterically. Stan remains, but whips Butters' body around so that his tight, little, _perfect_ ass is facing me. The moment I'm within hearing range, Stan locks gazes with me and says across Butters' shoulder, "Kenny, Butters tells me that you think you can handle this ass." One of his hands lowers to Butters ass to grope and pull him even closer against his body. "Care to prove it?"

An unexpected smile breaks out across my face and Stan's eyes light up when my facial expression changes from "what the shit, man?!" to "oh, this should be fun." He kisses Butters lightly on his cheek before slowly pushing his body backwards into my waiting arms. The second my arms are securely wrapped around Butters' waist, he grins at me before running off, leaving me relatively alone with Butters. My hands slide backwards across Butters' lower stomach to grip his hips loosely and I lean my head over his shoulder so our cheeks are touching and I can feel the smile that's plastered on his face. I allow one of my own to slip on my face while our bodies move to the deafening beat of the bass in the song presently blaring through the sound system. Butters' ass is tight against my front and the way he's pressing his hips into me makes me want to push him into the floor and fuck him right then and there. His hands are in my hair, tangling, tugging, pulling, and I almost lose it when his back arches as he lets his head fall back onto my shoulder, just as he did with Stan.

He presses his ass harder against me for one blissful moment and I realize that this is still very much a game. I grasp his hips firmer in my hands to push his body slightly away from my own (much to my disappointment) to turn him around to face me. With my hands now on his ass, I pull his hips back against me and am momentarily stunned when his hands slide to my hips to keep me tight against him. One of those hands slides up my chest to tangle itself back into my hair and he slowly drags my face closer to his own.

I lean down suddenly, my lips almost touching his, and I ask, "How long do I have to last in order for me to prove that I can own your ass?"

Butters' laugh is almost unheard in the commotion that surrounds us, but I can feel it through his chest that's tantalizingly close to my own. He grinds his hips hard against mine – twice this time – and I inhale sharply at the rush of sensations that flow over me. This side of Butters is completely unexpected and I'm left wondering where the hell he's been during all of the other parties Token has thrown. I almost forget that I asked him a question, when he finally answers:

"All night."

I'm _fucked_. "Shit, Butters. That's a long fucking time with you grinding up on me like that. I don't think that's very fair, baby boy. How about this: I spend the rest of my night right here next to you, but we stop dancing. Now. If we keep this up any longer, I just might lose it."

Butters laughs softly and his hips slowly come to a halt. He looks up at me through the fringe that has fallen out of the barrettes we spent several minutes meticulously putting in his hair just hours before and nods his head silently. I breathe a sigh of relief and wrap my fingers around his thin wrist, pulling him toward the door across the room that I know leads to the basement downstairs.

The stairs prove to be difficult when I nearly topple down them three times on the first two steps. Butters is laughing uncontrollably and I can't help but laugh with him, tugging on his wrist to keep myself upright. He finally wraps my arm around his shoulders, shifting my grip on his wrist so that his fingers are interlaced with mine, and steadies me enough to slowly walk me down the flight of stairs with the aid of the walls on either side of us.

When we reach the bottom of the steps, I lose my balance completely and slam both of us into the wall opposite the stair case. Butters is pinned beneath the weight of my upper body and I have half a mind to just keep him there all night, but remember I came down here for a reason. I place my hands on the wall on either side of his body and push slightly off of him, looking him in the eyes. One of my legs is between both of Butters' and when I shift to keep my balance I accidentally rub against him through his jeans. I watch his eyes flutter closed and hear him let a soft moan slip past those pink lips. However, my next thought is completely forgotten when I hear Kyle yell at me from across the room.

"Kenny! What the hell, dude? Where have you been?" I hear Kyle ask and I immediately back off of Butters, pulling him against my side to walk us towards the couches where Kyle, Stan, Clyde, Craig, and Tweek are lounging. Tweek is sitting on the plushy arm of the leather couch with his legs across Craig's lap, smoking a blunt and Kyle is scolding Stan and Clyde who are currently passing a bowl back and forth. Kyle shoots me a glare and shouts, "You better not be down here to smoke, too, Kenny."

"Sorry to disappoint, but that's what I'm here for, Jew boy." Kyle's frown grows deeper and I reach my hand out to rub my finger through the crease in between his eyebrows to smooth it out. I laugh at him and say, "Did you want me to say that I came down here to see your pretty, red, Jew-curls?"

He finally laughs and shoves Stan over closer to Clyde to make room for me and Butters. Instead of allowing Butters to sit in the seat next to me, I pull him into my lap and shift his body around until he is straddling my hips.

"Gettin' cozy, Kenny?" Stan asks with a barely-there smirk on his face and Clyde laughs from beside him.

"Don't judge me, Stan."

Stan repacks the bowl and passes it to me along with a clear green lighter. I light up and suck in the smoke, holding it in my chest, looking up at Butters to gauge his reaction. His hands are pressed lightly against my waist and he's leaning closer to me, eyes on my lips. I slowly allow the smoke to pass through my lips again, taking care to not blow smoke straight into his face. I raise an eyebrow at him and he blushes slightly before shifting nervously in my lap.

I grab onto him with one hand and mumble, "Stop moving around so damn much, Butters. Jesus Christ. Why are you staring at me like that, hmm? What do you want?"

Butters shifts around nervously again and I almost give in to the urge to drag him up two flights of steps and into a bedroom just so I can show him how much his nervous wiggling is affecting me. Kyle is speaking to Stan over me and Butters and I almost miss what comes out of his mouth.

"Can I try it?"

I stare at him in complete shock for all of 5 seconds before I nod my head and grab the back of his head with my free hand to pull him in the remaining few inches, softly touching my lips against his. He gasps at the sudden kiss and I choose that moment to slip my tongue briefly into his mouth before retreating entirely.

"That isn't what I meant," he gasps out and I try, but fail to stop the laugh that's bubbling up inside me.

"I know, just when I do that again, open your mouth without questioning me and breathe in, alright? I'll give you what you want, trust me." He nods his head obediently and his eyes slide to half-mast while I light the bowl up again, repeating what I did before.

I pull his face towards mine again and he obligingly slides forward into the kiss, opening his mouth almost immediately. I slowly exhale the smoke into his mouth and he breathes in as I do so, capturing the smoke in between our lips. I tangle my tongue around his briefly before I yet again break the kiss and close his mouth, telling him to inhale and hold it. Looking to my left, I see Kyle staring at us with wide eyes and an open mouth. I feel Butters exhale against my cheek as I put my fingers beneath Kyle's jaw to close it. When I feel Butters' lips lightly trailing down my neck, I stand up with Butters still seated in my lap to walk over to the revolving chair next to the couch and drop him gently onto it, spinning it around so that it's facing away from the two couches. I move to stand above Butters and nudge my leg between his knees, bracing one arm on the back of the chair, placing the other against his cheek. I lower my face down to kiss him properly this time, digging my fingers into his now ruined hair, tilting his head back at a better angle. I thrust my tongue into Butters' mouth and almost smile when I hear him whimper into my mouth when our tongues touch. Just as Butters starts to grind against my leg, we're interrupted yet again and I have an overwhelming urge to castrate him.

"KENNEH!" It's Cartman and I'm seriously considering cutting his dick off and feeding it to the dogs.

I pop up from behind the chair and shout, "Goddamn it, Cartman. What the fuck do you want? I'm busy!" I feel Butters' hands rubbing circles against the skin under my shirt and my hand that's in his hair tightens slightly. The palm of one of his hands presses against me through my jeans and I grit my teeth tighter while still glaring at Cartman.

"Aw, Kennaaayy don't get all pissy on me. I can't spend time with my favorite blonde?" Cartman goads and I really want to punch him in the face.

"Not now, Cartman. Fuck off, I'll hang out with you later," I grit out between my teeth. By now Butters is boldly rubbing my hard-on with both fingers and palm and I have to remind myself that we're in a room full of people so I don't rip my zipper down and – his tongue is now licking me through my jeans and I snap.

I pull Butters out of the chair by my grip in his hair and drag him over to the guest bedroom the Token's have in their basement. I kick the door open, flick the lights on, say "Get the fuck out, _now_," before throwing Butters onto the queen sized bed, slamming the door shut after the couple previously occupying the room have fled.

"I think it's safe to say that, for the moment, I own your ass."


	4. Out Of Gas

**(A/N):** Really short and rushed and not at all how I wanted it to turn out. I just wanted to get another chapter out there since it has been over a week since my last update. Hope you guys like it =/ ... Reviews and Comments are always welcome :)

Ps. Not beta-ed. Don't kill me for my mistakes.

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The blood coursing through my veins is tainted by alcohol and pot, flushing my skin pink.

_Inhibitions are currently undergoing some maintenance, sir. If you would please take a number and remain seated until you are called, that would be great. _

Before I realize what is happening, my legs are already walking me towards the bed where I tossed Butters moments ago. In fact, I'm already crawling over top of his lean, tiny form before my mind even remotely catches up with my body. One of my hands grabs onto his slim hip to pull his body flush against mine, while the other reacquaints itself with his soft, sunflower-yellow hair. One sharp tug and a soft gasp later and my tongue is thrusting into Butters' mouth at the same time my hips grind down into Butters'. The responding mewls that slip over Butters' tongue and into my mouth are enough to make me growl low in my throat and rip my mouth prematurely from Butters' to allow those adorable noises to flow freely. My mouth leaves a wet trail of hot kisses along his jaw, leaves a teasing trail of butterfly kisses across his throat, before sucking and licking at his collarbone, claiming what should have been claimed months ago. His mouth is partially open, letting tiny gasps and moans to slip out uninhibited. My teeth scrape along his neck on my way back up to capture those sounds in my mouth, but I pause at the unexpected reaction it created.

It was the fleeting, barely there, lift and _thrust_ of Butters' hips that prompted me to tug Butters' head to the side by my firm grip in his hair, sinking my teeth lightly into the juncture where shoulder meets neck. Butters' gasping moan echoes in my ears as I unzip his hoodie, pull it off of one shoulder, and sincerely bite into his neck, enjoying the way his body squirms underneath of me, trying to get closer and further away at the same time. I pin his hips to the bed beneath us to keep them from moving against mine and the frustrated whine I get in response iss enough to make my jaw clamp down harder on the muscle in his neck before releasing it completely.

Butters' fingertips brush against my cheeks on their way to rake soothingly across my scalp and I abandon his neck in favor of his lips, but am startled when his other hand pushes against my chest to scoot me backwards before I have the chance to claim them. He reverses our positions and pushes me backwards until I'm resting comfortably against the headboard. He slowly crawls over my repositioned, slightly upright body and I bite my bottom lip hard when he seats himself right in my lap. He shifts his body around until he's comfortably straddling me and my head falls back against the headboard as I release a groan at the resulting friction of his movements.

"Oh, _God_. Butters, _please_," I moan out when I feel his hands start to hesitantly roam across my chest and stomach. He stops all movement and my eyes slowly open to stare up at him.

"Kenny?" It's the completely innocent utterance that comes from the embodiment of innocence itself that makes me stop and really look at him.

His barrettes are long gone, leaving his hair a wild disarray and his eyelids are half-covering his glazed over baby blues. His cheeks are flushed a brilliant pink and his lips remind me of strawberries. He's now nervously chewing on his bottom lip because of my scrutiny and my eyes continue the journey downward to take in the rest of his body. His hoodie is still hanging off of one shoulder revealing the marks I left on his skin and his tank top underneath is crumpled and twisted crookedly across his torso. There's an obvious bulge straining against his shorts and he shifts in my lap again, this time in nervousness.

"Kenny?"

This time it's a question and I sigh softly at the confusion I can hear in his voice. My eyes meet his and I can feel my heart starting to melt slowly. He tilts his head in the most adorable way imaginable and my lips twitch upwards into a small smile. His body relaxes considerably, but there is still tension in his shoulders and neck and the confusion is still swimming in his eyes. My conscience kicks in full force at that point and I slowly thread Butters' fingers through mine, taking a deep, calming breath.

"Butters, just exactly how much have you had to drink?" I ask slowly, sure to keep my eyes locked on his. I can't continue this if he's as plastered as I know he is.

"Oh – Um… Geez, Kenny. I – I think…two o-or three shots?" he stutters. I wince slightly at what he admits, knowing that if we go any further than this we will most likely regret it in the morning. I sigh, frustrated, closing my eyes briefly before I pull Butters off my lap and tuck him into my side. I rest my head on top of his head of hair and slowly rub my hand up and down his back. His body relaxes completely against mine a few moments later and I wait until I hear his breathing even out to pull out my cell phone and scroll through my contacts. I find Kyle's name and hit "send message" before texting:

**In guest bedroom of basement. Bring me a big blanket so I don't have to move. Love you.**

I hit the send button and wait a few moments before I feel my phone vibrate, signaling a new message. I flip it open and read it:

**You're so fucking lazy. Fleece blanket or legit blanket?**

I laugh softly, trying not to wake Butters, typing in my response.

**Legit. Make it snappy, bitch.**

A minute and a handful of seconds later, Kyle walks through the door with an armful of blanket and Stan. Stan is obviously high and intoxicated, but it's also obvious that Kyle isn't that far behind him. Kyle is shushing Stan and they both stumble over to the bed. Kyle drops Stan to the floor (who lets out an indignant "oof!") before shaking the blanket out over me and Butters. I smile softly at him and he places a soft goodnight kiss on my forehead before unsteadily bending to pick up Stan, leading them both back out the door. I curl my body into Butters' sleeping form and think of how this night definitely didn't go as it usually would have gone.

I'm shockingly happy with my decision to head in early and go to sleep without drunkenly hooking up with some random face. I'm happy with my decision to drunkenly curl up next to someone I care deeply for and not make any stupid decisions based upon my intoxication. I'm *yawn* happy … with my decision…

End Transmission.


	5. Bankrupt on Selling

Title: Yellow-Haired, Blue-Eyed Bunnies

Chapter: 5/?

Pairing(s): Kenny/Butters

Words: 3,760... aka really hard to find that ONE word that my beta took out.

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**(A/N): Okay, so first off I would like to thank my wonderous Beta, Lacey aka Crazy Lala-Chan (check out her storiesss!). **

**"Do you wanna know how many times I mention 'pants' in this chapter?"  
****"XD How many?"  
****"Eight times. And that's just using the word 'pants.'"  
****"XDD Look at how many times you used the word "BUTTERS."**

**... 3 minutes later... **

**"Wanna know how many times I use the word 'Butters?' XD"  
"How many times did you say Butters?"  
"37.. plus... the 3 I just took out..so 40."**

Gotta love my little fish to make my little story sound better ahaha

"You took out a word and there are 3,761 words in my story. I need to find ONE."

AND I FOUND THAT LITTLE NINJA WORD! 3

I would also like to thank my reviewers, especially my dahling Lacey, oppositeproduct and InsomniaticFrenchToast. You guys make me enjoy posting my chapters every single time. I would like to point out that I am taking requests for pairings and have already taken requests for a Christophe/Kyle chapter and a Damien/Pip chapter. If you have any more requests, don't hesitate to ask!!

One more announcement before I let you enjoy this chapter: I am doing a spin-off of this story for a Christophe/Kyle story by demand of my beta 3 I will be updating a Chris/Kyle chapter to this story before I do, just to make the transition smoother for me. If you have any comments or complaints, don't hesitate to voice them!!

Hokay, so this finally I give you all a Butters/Kenny chapter considering it IS a Bunny story... I ask little of you! Please review if you have the time!! and ENJOY!!. 333

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I wake up with a jolt and stare up at the ceiling, trying to locate what woke me up without actually getting out of bed. I only have to wait a few moments before I get my answer in the form of Butters kicking out at the covers, narrowly missing my leg. I furrow my brows slightly at his jerky movements and my sleep-sensitive ears pick up his soft whimpering noises that sound petrified. I roll over towards Butters and reach out to wrap my arms and legs across his entire body to pin him between the bed and my body, running my fingers lightly through his tangled hair to try and calm him back into a restful sleep. As soon as my fingers slide through his hair, he becomes limp in my hold and breathes out a sigh against my neck. I continue slowly brushing his hair, but my plan to lull him back to sleep backfires when he releases a shaky yawn and his eyes start to blink open.

"Kenny?" he mumbles, still half-asleep. I remember the last time he said my name so innocently and smile down at him. His eyes are slightly glazed over from sleep and there is a hint of confusion and surprise in them. I'm still petting his hair quietly when he speaks again, "What time is it?"

Not the exact question I was expecting, but I roll half-way onto my back to check the bright red numbers of the alarm clock before turning back to Butters.

"1:27…a.m."

"Whut time did we fall 'sleep?"

"Dunno. I think it wuz sumtime 'round 8 or 9…" He still looks confused, but the surprise has melted into something akin to affection. He shifts more comfortably into my embrace, but his eyes stay relatively open. I get a sudden surge of hunger and look at Butters, wondering if he's as hungry as I am.

I'm slightly more awake, therefore my words don't come out as the mumbled mess they were before, "Would you like something to eat or some Advil?"

"Yes, please. 'm actually pretty hungry," Butters yawns, wrapping the blanket more firmly around us.

I laugh at him snuggling deeper into me and the blankets, peeking under them to say, "I'm going to have to get up in order to get you something to eat, Butters."

He whines cutely and throws his arm over my waist to snuggle his face into my shirt-covered chest, "Nuh-huh. You are far too comfy and I'm far too warm. I ain't lettin' go."

I laugh softly at this and throw the covers off of both of us, receiving a wailing 'no, not fair!' from Butters. He scrambles half way down the bed before I manage to pluck him off of it and I force him through the door and into the open area of the basement. When we reach the couches, I do a double take seeing Kyle passed out on the couch with Christophe stretched out underneath him. We continue to quietly walk around them and I make a mental note to make Kyle, or Christophe- whoever comes first- to explain it to me later.

When we sleepily stumble through the basement door, the first thing I notice is that the party is still in full swing. Approximately a third of the party-goers are gone, though, whether secluded in other rooms or gone from the party entirely, I have no idea. Butters and I manage to find the kitchen without too much of a hassle and I sit him down in one of the kitchen chairs. I turn around and nearly shit myself when I see Cartman leaning against the island, a smug look on his face. He most definitely was not standing there when I walked into the kitchen. I clutch at my heart, willing it to stop having palpitations before I drop dead, and take a few deep breaths to calm myself down.

"What the fuck, Cartman?" I nearly yell out, frustrated that he snuck up on me.

"So, you and Butters, eh? I didn't know you had a thing for him. I thought we were gonna be the only straight kids in our group of four?" Cartman slyly states, making my cheeks tinge slightly pink.

"Yeah, so did I. Until Stan mentioned something about it and I guess, long story short, I am oblivious to how I feel about other people." I sigh, running a hand through my already messy hair.

"Fuck, Kenny. _I_ could have told you that."

I laugh and punch him hard in the arm, ducking quickly to avoid his fist connecting with my face. I push pass him towards the cabinets and pour a tall glass of water for Butters, grabbing the small medicine basket that sits on top of the refrigerator on my way back to where Butters is slumped over the table. I gently place both objects onto the kitchen table, sitting on the edge near Butters' head. I shift through the various bottles of over-the-counter medications and pull out the Advil bottle, shaking two pills into my hand. I nudge him with the back of my hand and he sits up to take the pills from my palm with a small 'thank you', placing them delicately on his little pink tongue. I flush at the memory of that tongue against mine and silently give him his glass of water, pushing off against the table to walk back over the Cartman.

"He's got you fucking whipped and it hasn't even been 24 hours," Cartman says with a wide, ever-knowing smirk on his face.

"Shut up, fatass. I'd like to see _you_ last one night without wanting to fuck him senseless," I whisper furiously, grabbing the conveniently placed bag of chips from Cartman's fingers to give to Butters.

"Oi! Those where mine, dickface!"

"And? You think I care, why?" I say cheekily, receiving Cartman's middle finger being pointed at me in response. With Butters happily munching on his bag of chips, I turn to continue my conversation with Cartman, but find him to have, yet again, out-stealthed me. He's nowhere to be seen and I peer through the swinging kitchen door only to have the living hell scared out of me by Stan's face. I fall back on my ass, clutching my heart again, frowning at Stan's hysterical laughter. I take hold of his hand when he offers it, and I am pulled to my feet and against Stan's side.

"How'd yer night go, Ken?" Stan mumbles steering me to lean against the countertop, as far away from Butters as Stan could possibly place us.

"Depends on how you look at it. How'd yours go? Oh, I made an interesting discovery downstairs when I woke up."

Stan quirks an eyebrow, but disregards my last statement for the time being, "How do you look at it?"

"I'd say that my night went pretty damn well, even if I didn't get laid."

"Getting laid wasn't part of the plan tonight. Getting _love_ was," Stan says in a low voice, smiling that smile one usually sees before a prank that he and I set up goes off. I shake my head at his answer and sigh softly, peering through my blonde fringe to look at Butters.

"I honestly don't know what I'm getting myself into, Stan. But, at this point, I rather like what I'm getting myself into and I wouldn't change it for the world," I speak softly so that Butters wouldn't be able to hear me, turning my head slightly to look at Stan when I finish speaking.

Stan snorts after a brief silence, wrapping his arm tight around my neck to pull me into a noogie. I give an indignant shout and push him off of me, both of us laughing loudly.

I speak after we settle back into our respective spots against the counter, "How did your night go? I notice Kyle isn't with you," I take a sniff at his clothes, "and you don't smell like him, either. More like…a really girly girl." At this, Stan blushes deeply, turning his face away from me sharply to try to hide it.

"Oh, shit. You got some from a _girl_ tonig- wait, Wendy? Does Kyle know?" My eyes are wide and my mind flashes me a picture of Kyle and Christophe on the couch downstairs.

"Kyle suggested it. He didn't seem to mind that I ran out on him…and Wendy didn't seem to mind that I ran into her," Stan barks out a laugh, "but the guy she was with did."

I laugh at the horrified look on Stan's face, motioning for him to continue his story.

"The guy pushed me and told me to fuck off when I barged in on them. Being quite intoxicated, I fell flat on my ass. Don't laugh at me; he was a really big fucker. Wendy told _him_ to fuck off, so he did. That's when he stepped on me. Right on my fucking dick, man. It was a foul play. It wasn't hard enough to cripple me, but shit it still hurt. I didn't like 15 pounds of pressure sitting on my dick. It was uncomfortable," Stan stops to laugh at my incredulous look, "I didn't like 15 pounds _stepping _on my dick. Sitting, I would like."

"I can tell your night was far more eventful than mine after you and Kyle dropped me off a blanket. Was Wendy coherent?"

"Didn't wait long enough to find out. She definitely wasn't sober, but neither was I."

I snort and roll my eyes, sneaking a quick glance at Butters. I'm taken aback when I see that he's staring right at me and cock my head to the side in question. He blushes adorably, but doesn't look away from me like I thought he would. Instead, he stands up and shuffles his way over to where I'm leaning against the counter, looking up at me through the bangs that were once meticulously pinned back against his head. He braces his hands on the counter behind me and leans against me, deviously sliding his body up the length of mine to place several soft kisses on my partly opened lips. I place one of my hands on the back of his neck to pull him into a deeper kiss, nipping playfully at his bottom lip to force a soft whine from him. I hear Stan's rumbling laugh to my left and feel the air shift as he starts to walk away.

"Kenny."

I know it's a departing acknowledgement and lean away from Butters' lips to mumble a quiet, "Stan."

My lips are immediately assaulting Butters' pliant ones and the resulting moan that seeps into my mouth is quite delectable. I reluctantly put my hands on his hips and push him away gently, placing a chaste kiss on his forehead.

"Listen, Butters. I really like you and I don't want to fuck this up before it even begins. So, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to _stop being a cock tease_," I whisper against Butters' ear and get a thrill out of the shiver that wracks his slender body. He slowly shakes his head 'no' and I chuckle against the skin of his neck.

"No? And what, pray tell, do you mean by 'no'?"

"N-no, I won't st-stop bein' a … acocktease," He rushes the last few words out like he's embarrassed that they're coming out of his mouth and I can't help but smirk. I wrap my fingers around his chin and hold his face a hairbreadth away from my own, letting my smirk grow wider when a whine rips out of his throat at the lack of physical contact. I let my laugh roll over his lips and finally speak:

"Alright, Butters, you can be a cock tease, so long as you know what you're getting yourself into."

"I promise you, I know-I _want_," he practically moans out and I release his jaw only to have his lips immediately on mine, tongue pressing into my mouth, hands sliding ruthlessly under my shirt to skim and tickle along my abdomen and stomach. I release a low groan, digging my fingers into Butters' hair, tugging at the belt loop in his jeans to crush his hips against mine, slipping the same hand around his hips to grope his ass. He tears his face away from my own to let out a desperate sounding mewl, rolling his hips lightly against mine. _Definitely a cock tease_. Lil' Wayne's Fireman is blaring through the speakers of the other room and he starts sincerely grinding against me to the beat of the bass, driving me insane when he keeps seamlessly switching up his rhythm. I throw my head back when his dick aligns directly with mine and his hips rub and twist and grind and roll; I'm moaning like a paid whore and _cock tease_ doesn't even cover half of it. The hand that doesn't have a firm grip on Butters' ass is attempting to find purchase on the countertop behind me while I try to keep my hips firmly pressed against Butters'. I'm a gasping, moaning, writhing mess by the time his hips slowly stop moving and I nearly cry from frustration when his hips completely still against mine.

"You better finish what you started or _you're _going to be the one frustrated beyond belief," I growl out between my teeth, shoving his hips against mine by the grip on his backside. I'm staring down at him through half-lidded eyes, trying to get the message across that I _need_ it and he almost looks empathetic. His rhythm slowly starts up again and I hiss out a "fuck yes" when his rhythm stays constant with mine. His lips and teeth are nipping and sucking at the skin under my jaw and the hands that were roaming the skin underneath my shirt are now slowly travelling to the skin just above my waistband. He thumbs the button for all of two seconds before he rips it open and shoves the zipper down for good measure.

My eyes snap open and I grab his wrist to hold it in place, waiting until he looks up at me with those bright blue eyes. My eyebrows furrow into a frustrated frown, but all of my worries dissolve when he gives me a small, completely conniving smile. I let out a shaky laugh when he drops to his knees right there in Token's kitchen and I bury my fingers back into his hair. His breath is hot and fast against me when he shoves my pants down to mid-thigh, pulling me out of my boxers. There's nothing remotely funny about the way he calculatingly stares at my erection and my laughter is immediately replaced by a gasping moan. The grip he has around the base of my cock is just right and I nearly cum when the tip of his tongue dips timidly into the slit. I try to force myself to _not_ thrust my entire length into his mouth and down his throat, but he's making it damn near impossible with the way he's licking and sucking at various spots all along my dick. Instead, my fingers tighten in his hair and I let a desperate whine spill out of my mouth before I have half a mind to stop it. He takes that as his cue to stop being the fucking cock teasethat he is and sucks the head of my cock into his warm, wet, _gloriously tight_ mouth. He slowly inches his way to about two thirds of the way down my prick and I can already tell I'm not going to last long when I have the image of my dick sliding into his perfectly innocent mouth burned into my retinas. I moan loudly and half curl into him, unable to stop the minute thrusts of my hips when his head starts a slow bob. One of his hands comes to rest on my hipbone to keep my hips relatively still when he unexpectedly sucks on one upward bob of his head. My breath hitches in my throat as his tongue returns to teasingly dip in and out of the slit in my head and I'm so close that it almost hurts. After being teased mercilessly all night, it's comes as no surprise when one simple hum from Butters has me toppling over the edge and into oblivion. After he's licked me clean of all fluids, I vaguely feel Butters tucking me back into my pants and I pet him dazedly in thanks.

When I finally regain control of all my senses, I lean down to shove Butters onto his back to kneel over him and grip his hips tightly, pulling his ass to rest on my thighs. I run my hands along the front of his jeans and silently rejoice when he writhes against me. I slowly unbutton his jeans and drag his zipper down before I'm stopping by a trembling hand.

"W-wait, Kenny. Yo-you really don't have t-to do that," he stutters, batting my hand away relentlessly.

I smirk down at him and respond, "And if I want to?" My fingers curl around his waistband and slowly tug them lower on his hips, waiting for his response.

He twists slightly and tries to choke his gasp back in vain, "N-no, really I don't-_fuck._"

I chuckle darkly at his curse as a result of my hand gripping his cock through his jeans, rubbing my palm in slow, tantalizing circles.

"I have a proposition for you, Mr. Stotch." I take his moan as an answer and continue, "I propose that I pay you back without even taking your pants off." He whimpers his approval and grinds his hips harder into my palm when I give him a light squeeze. I can tell he's going to last about as long as I did and continue pressing the heel of my palm up and down his length, lightly tracing the outline of his head with my thumb on every other stroke upwards. My other hand is trailing up under his shirt, pushing it up under his chin to leave his skin unhindered for my hand to roam. My fingers tweak and pull at one of his nipples and after a particularly hard thrust of his hips and a graceful arch of his back, Butters is creaming in his pants.

We both simultaneously sigh and I almost laugh. I crawl up his body to nuzzle my face into his neck, placing light kisses all over his face, neck, and shoulders. He giggles cutely at this and pushes against my shoulders to get me to roll off of him. We both stand and he makes a face at the wetness in his pants. I tilt my head in consideration before picking him up bridal style to carry him out of the kitchen and up the stairs towards Token's room. "Mi casa es su casa" is one of the many rules that keeps our close knit friends together. Clothes also fall under the category of sharing. When I reach Token's door, I gently place Butters back onto his feet before quietly opening the door, in case Token is asleep in there. I know I made a good judgment when I spot a large mass under the many blankets that cover Token's bed. I quietly tiptoe my way over to Token's dresser and curse quietly when it makes an obnoxious noise. Token- never one to be a heavy sleeper- rolls over and grunts in my direction, eyes half-open.

"Token, it's just me, Kenny. Butters needs to borrow some clothes. I'll be out of here in like two minutes flat." I whisper into the dark, continuing my search quickly after I hear a sigh from Token…and a slightly higher-in-octave grunt from the unnoticed, smaller mass next to Token. My eyes somewhat widen when I notice a tuft of red hair poking out from underneath the covers and choke back a laugh. I grab a pair of Token's smallest boxers and two pairs of sweatpants before quietly making my way back out of his room, whispering a "goodnight" before closing the door firmly. I look around confusedly when I don't see Butters waiting patiently outside of Token's bedroom door. My ears pick up the sound of water running in the nearest bathroom and I smile to myself as I walk towards it, clothing in hand. I turn into the doorway in time to see Butters tug his little Hello Kitty briefs down over his ass and I clear my throat to interrupt his changing for the second time that day. His sexy little tube socks are still on and his hoodie barely covers his ass as he looks over his shoulder at me with a startled look on his face. He smiles when he sees me and motions for me to come into the bathroom with one of his hands. I toss his clothes at him before turning around to give him his privacy as I strip off my own pants to replace them with the softness of Token's sweats.

I turn around to find Butters trying to hold his sweatpants up with one hand and trying to tie the drawstrings tight with the other. I laugh, causing my little blonde to blush brilliantly in embarrassment. Walking over to him, I take the drawstrings between my hands and deftly tie them tight enough to stay on his little hips, kissing his forehead when I finish the bow.

"Care to go back into the basement and curl back up in those warm blankets?" I inquire quietly, leaning my forehead against Butters'.

"I would love to," Butters responds and he leads the way back into the basement with his fingers intertwined with mine, pulling me to the bed with him once we reach our self-proclaimed room. He throws back all of the covers to make sure we have optimal warmth, literally crawling underneath them after I joined him on the bed. He snuggles into my side and drags my arm over his waist and I place my head on the pillow we're sharing to rest my lips against his forehead. He's asleep before I even whisper a goodnight, but I'm not far behind him. The next time I open my eyes, the tiny window that shows the ground above will be letting the sunlight shine across the room.


	6. Trailer Trash

**(A/N): Funnily enough, I got halfway through this chapter and then starting working from the end of the chapter backward. For some weird reason, it's easier for me to write it when I know how it's going to end, I just have to fill in the shit that gets me from point A to point B (or point B to point A). Ah, I know it's short, but hell it's something, right? Right? Guys? If you read it carefully, you can actually see a glimmer of plot! Enjoy, my minions. **

It is an unusually hot and humid day in South Park, Colorado and the air outside has the consistency of split pea soup; the temperature just as hot. I am stretched out on my back in the middle of the floor of my tiny room, directly beneath the erratically spinning, dingy fan that appears as though it is going to rip right out of the ceiling and decapitate me at any moment. Stan had graciously lent me one of his portable fans and it is blowing hot air across my face and chest with a loud hum. I tilt my head to the left and just make out the bright blue sky through the ripped and torn curtains of my strangely large window. I smell the stench of time and earth through the cracks in my floorboards and I vainly tip my head backwards to try to breathe in fresh air. When my phone gives off a tiny vibration, it makes my right hand twitch instinctively around it. Flipping it open with my thumb, I lazily read the message and nearly bound out of my room and to the front door when I read the first two words.

**I'm here.**

It's the first day of summer and Butters offered to pick me up so that I didn't die of a heat stroke in my sauna (which is secretly disguised as a bedroom). I hastily grab a random shirt laying on the armrest of one of our couches, burst out the front door, trip over a stray cat in the process, and almost face plant in the dying hydrangea bushes in front of our falling-apart house. Kicking one of my little sister's toys across the yard in frustration, I reach under her little toy wagon and pull out my last pair of flip-flops, carrying them to Butters' car with me. I stumble to the passenger side door of his little black Honda and smile at his angelic face absolutely beaming at me. I hear the sound of music blaring through Butters' abused speakers and when I open the door, the noise of Radiohead's 15 Step slaps me in the face full force. Slamming the door behind me, I lean over the center console to kiss Butters on his expecting cheek before I buckle my seat belt hastily as he throws his car into reverse and careens out of my cobblestone driveway (surprisingly skilled at avoiding all of the miscellaneous toys and objects strewn across it).

"I missed your face, buttercup," I say with a crooked smile, positioning all of the vents within my reach directly at me.

Butters giggles, "You just saw me yesterday, Kenny. Oh, darn. I forgot to tell you to bring a bathing suit. My dad said that the pool was ready for us today. Oh, hamburgers."

"I kind of don't have one, actually. I mean, I have one; it's just fit for a ten-year-old kid, not a seventeen-year-old boy. I could wear it if you want. They just might be a little…revealing," I say, giving Butters a wink just to see a blush spread across his cheeks.

"N-no, you don't hafta do that. You can wear one of my dad's, okay?"

I nod in agreement and the rest of the short car ride is spent in relative silence, with the exception of the upbeat music that pumps through the speakers. Once we pull into the smoothly paved driveway of Butters' house, I slide my tattered flip-flops on and step out into the sweltering heat with a groan. The heels of my sandals scrape the pavement as I lazily stroll behind a nearly bouncing Butters and I laugh as he twirls around in circles while unabashedly singing the lines of the last song that was playing in his car. After a brief struggle with his keys and the dead bolt, Butters finally manages to unlock the front door and I breathe a sigh of relief when the cold, dry air collides with my overheated skin. I don't get to appreciate the luxury of air conditioning for very long because Butters' little fingers wrap themselves around my wrist and proceed to drag me up the steps. Mrs. Stotch stops us on her way down and I give her my usual charming smile.

"Kenny! It's so nice to see you, again, dear. Are you and Butters going for a dip in the pool?" she asks while passing us on the narrow staircase.

"Absolutely," I say over my shoulder, watching as she walks into the kitchen and disappears before I turn back around to push Butters face first into the carpet of the stairs, grinding the front of my hips against his arse, "And I'm going to be dipping into something else entirely while I'm at it."

"K-Kenny!" Butters half-gasps, half-whines and wriggles his way out from beneath me to scramble up the rest of the steps and into the safety of his parent's room. I snort at his unrelenting innocence and trudge up the few remaining steps and down the long hallway towards Mr. and Mrs. Stotch's bedroom. I lean against the doorframe just inside the room and watch as Butters carefully searches through his father's clothes in search of a pair of swim trunks that will fit my much thinner frame. Suddenly, a brightly colored blur is flying straight for my face and my hand instinctively reaches out to snatch it from the air. I hold the swimming trunks out in front of me and snicker at Butters' choice; a white background with neon colored 50's style sunglasses patterned across the fabric in straight lines. Butters strutted (Yes, strutted. And with a little swing to his hips, too) passed me towards his own room, leaving the door open behind him as an invitation. By the time I reach his open door, he had already stripped down out of his shorts and wife beater and pulled on his own pair of colorful swim trunks.

"What the hell is that?" I ask, tilting my head to the side and leaning forward a bit to get a better look at his bathing suit.

"Cinnamoroll!" he shouts gleefully, "He's one of Hello Kitty's friends."

"Yeah, but what the hell is it? A rabbit?"

"No, silly. It's a dog!"

"Nope, I'm pretty sure it's a rabbit. Dog's ears aren't that long and they certainly aren't that white. Name one kind of dog that looks like that," I cross my arms over my chest stubbornly, "Rabbits look like that."

I chuckle when Butters shoots me a glare over his shoulder and close the door so that I can change. I toss my ratty shorts and dirty t-shirt (which I'm almost positive is my brother's) into a clean corner and pull on the surprisingly comfortable swimming trunks of Mr. Stotch. The waistband barely clings to my hips, but the drawstring creates enough tension to keep them attached to my body. When I look over to see what Butters is doing, I almost swallow my tongue at the sight of him kneeling on his mattress with his ass up in the air, swaying it around while he searches for something on the floor between his windowsill and bed. I silently make my way over to his mattress before tentatively kneeling behind my tease of a boyfriend.

With one hand groping his ass and the other placed on the windowpane for balance, I murmur, "You better pray that you aren't teasing me on purpose, little one."

"Wh-What? N-No, I mean, I-I wasn't-"

"Butters!" Mr. Stotch's voice shouts from downstairs.

I fall onto the mattress sideways with a mumbled 'Jesus fucking Christ…' as Butters climbs over me to open his door, "We're coming, dad!"

Butters twists around to look at me with wide innocent eyes and I roll off the bed, following him through the house to his back door. Once outside, he grabs two fluffy towels from a large bin beside the screen door, wrapping one around his shoulder and handing the other to me. I immediately drop the towel onto the grass and dig into my front pocket to toss my phone on top of it. My head snaps up when I hear a loud splash and my eyes instantly lock onto the tuft of blonde hair floating beneath the surface. I spot thin fingers grasping the edge of the pool before me and nearly yelp when Butters emerges from the water, spitting a mouth full of water at me. I run along the side of the pool to leap into a dive, straight into the deep end, reveling at the feel of cool water encasing my entire body. Spinning around to face the shallow end, I let my body drift to the bottom of the pool, sitting cross-legged upon reaching it. I watch as Butters' disembodied legs walk forward a bit before he completely submerges himself underwater and begins to swim towards me gracefully. I propel myself forward with my feet and meet him in the middle, shooting upwards to gasp for air.

Butters' face appears inches in front of mine and he breathily states, "I didn't know you could swim so well."

I smile as I half-heartedly tread water in front of him, "Stan and Kyle taught me a while back. They said something about keeping me from dying in situations where it could be preventable. They've taught me loads of things over the last few years."

I balance the very tips of my toes on the slanted floor of the pool and gently place my hands on Butters' hips for support, drawing our faces closer until our foreheads bump together. My eyes struggle to focus on his cerulean-colored irises as his body floats towards me until his legs are securely wrapped around my waist. My lips form one of my rare, genuine smiles and my balance teeters backwards with the added weight. Out of my peripheral vision, a movement catches my attention, and my eyes catch sight of the end movement of a curtain being hastily tugged closed. Ignoring the movement as one of Butters' parents walking passed it, I submerge us in the water until only our heads are showing and float our nearly weightless bodies into the deep end. We start to sink beneath the surface and we simultaneously fill our lungs with air just as the water covers our heads. Midway between the surface and the bottom, our entwined bodies drift languidly in the water and as soon as my back hits the wall, I brush my lips gently across his soft, pink ones. Our heads slowly pop out of the water and I brace my feet against the sloping wall to hold us up. I rotate our bodies until Butters is leaning against the side of the pool and press my lips to his forehead.

A faint chime reaches my ears from across the pool and I sigh as I swim away from my little blonde to see which fucker is interrupting me this time. When I reach the edge of the pool, I lift myself halfway out onto the searing hot cement and grab my phone off my neatly folded towel. Without stopping to check who it is, I flip my phone open and daintily hold it up to my ear.

"'Ello?" I pause as I listen to the voice on the other line, "Well, that sounds … entertaining."

I laugh and then pause longer, before, "Is that even a question, Stan?"

I let out another bark of laughter, and then give a short goodbye. I snap my phone shut and toss it back onto my dry towel, turning around with a predatory smile, "Looks like we're going out tonight, buttercup."


	7. Third Planet

**Disclaimer: South Park, all South Park characters, settings, and events belong to the makers of South Park, Matt Stone and Trey Parker. Sometimes, I just like to play with the grown-up versions of their boys. **

**(A/N): So, this massive thunderstorm tore through my neighborhood, threw golf-ball sized hail everywhere, blew rain ALL over my portable fan (that was sitting in my open window to keep the cool air in my room because our AC was broken for a good week, in the middle of a heat wave) and then proceeded to knock out our internets (and almost our power). I decided to spend that time writing this much needed chapter **

**Sorry if it doesn't flow all that well, but I refuse to reread it AGAIN. I need to hire a beta because I've stopped caring.**

**This chapter is dedicated to **d r a m a t i s . e c h o** who was the first to review the last chapter of Yellow-haired, Blue-eyed Bunnies. Congratulations and Thank You! **

**Enjoy!**

After my phone call with Stan, Butters and I spend another three solid hours in his in-ground pool, making up ridiculous games for the two of us to play and then floating around in the blow-up rafts when we can't come up with any more ideas to entertain us. It's around four o'clock when we decide to call it quits and climb out of the pool, our fingers and toes pruney from prolonged exposure to water.

I use the fluffy beach towel to relatively dry myself of chlorinated water and I shake my head like a wet dog, flinging tiny water droplets every which way. I watch as Butters pats his legs and arms dry, trying to resist the urge to tackle him to the grass and screw him right then and there. His hairless legs glisten as heavy water drops fall from his soaked bathing suit and leave wet trails down his calves. Slightly tanned shoulders flex as the smaller boy reaches downwards to swipe up the stray pool water off his legs and he slings the damp towel on top of his blonde head to ring out the edges of his swimming trucks. Cerulean-blue eyes lock onto mine and I beckon him forward with my index finger after I've loosely tied my towel around my hips. He approaches me hesitantly and his bright eyes constantly flicker between my face and the window behind me. I heed his obvious warning about his nosey parents and merely wrap my arm around his slim shoulders to steer him into the house, straight up to his room.

Once inside his privacy of his room, I push him back against the closed bedroom door and stare steadily into his wide eyes. With my forearm braced above his head and my forefinger under his chin tipping his head back, I forcefully claim his lips with mine and immediately slip my tongue into his compliant mouth. I smile at his small moan and further delve my tongue into his mouth while using the hand that was under his chin to pull his hips against me. I succeed at pushing down a groan that lodges in my throat when his fingernails lightly scratch down my back, but fail miserably when it comes to stopping my hips from grinding into his slim ones. He breaks the kiss with a soft mewling noise, pressing one of his cool hands against my chest.

"Kenny," he whines against my neck and I pin his wrist to the door when he tries to half-heartedly push me away.

"K-Kenny… We -ah! - We can't r-right now… We hafta sh-shower first!" His breath is short and gaspy and he vainly tries to tug his wrist out from my tight grasp. My lips form a devilish smirk as I stare down at his helplessness and lean in until our lips are a hair-width apart.

"Steamyhotshowersex?" I murmur, purposefully allowing my breath to ghost across his slightly parted lips.

A shiver races visibly down his spine and I chuckle at his failed attempt to crash his lips to mine. A whine rips out of his throat and I leave a wet trail of open-mouthed kisses along his chlorine tasting skin. Taking a pert nipple into my mouth, I lick and suck until he is squirming against his bedroom door, lost in somewhat unwanted pleasure. By the time his other, much neglected nipple is being tortured by my mouth, he is begging for me to keep going.

"Kenny -ngh- we hafta shower, b-but - oh, God, don't s-stop," Butters moans, his head tilted back to rest against his door while his free hand yanks me closer by my dripping wet bathing suit. For once happy that his bathroom is attached to his bedroom, I pull him away from his closed door by the back of his neck and push him ahead of me into his bathroom. Slamming the door closed behind me and locking it for good measure, I stride past Butters to close the other door leading to the guest room, locking it as well. Turning around at the sound of water spurting through the shower head, I spy Butters leaning against the wall beside the shower trying to untie the knot in his suit.

"Gosh darn it..." I hear him mumble to himself and I laugh quietly while walking towards my little buttercup.

Just as I am close enough to reach out and touch him, his deft fingers loosen the knot holding up his bathing suit and it dips low over his hips, revealing the tops of his pale butt cheeks and the beginning of the end of his bright blonde happy trail. I stop dead in my tracks, moaning at the sight Butters produced and push my (which were really Mr. Stotch's) swimming trunks down past my thighs, kicking them off to the corner of the bathroom. In my moment of distraction, Butters takes the opportunity to kick off his own bathing suit and I just miss seeing him climb into the bathtub where he could hide behind the safety of the shower curtains. He pokes his sopping wet head out around the edge of the half-open curtain and drips water onto the tiled bathroom floor.

"Aren't you coming in?" he asks timidly, his face blushing madly as his eyes rove over my fully exposed body.

I nod stupidly as his face disappears behind the curtain once more and I walk the remaining steps to the bathtub, opening the curtain a little to avoid any unnecessary water to escape onto the bathroom floor. I tug the fabric as close as I can to the adjoining wall, glancing at Butters when I hear a shampoo bottle snap open. His tiny hand grips the awkwardly large bottle as he pours a small amount of the fruit smelling shampoo onto his cupped palm before he hands the bottle to me. He begins to vigorously scrub his hair free of chlorine and I gladly follow suit, not remembering the last time I had a bottle of shampoo at my own house. With the smell of apples and wet skin heavy in the steamy air surrounding us, we quickly speed through washing our blonde heads with Butters' borderline girly hair products. Once I rinse the last of the silky conditioner out of my untangled hair, I snatch up a wet wash cloth and reach across the space between me and Butters to pick up his body wash. I squeeze a generous amount of the almost-liquid onto the cloth in a random zigzag pattern before rubbing the two halves of cloth together to create a foamy soap. Beckoning Butters closer to me, I lean back against the tiled wall, away from the direct spray of the shower head.

Butters stops directly in front of me and I cannot help but stare at the water sliding down his sun-tanned skin, dripping off the ends of his hair only to be caught again by the skin on his shoulders and neck, rolling lower and faster and lower still. The droplet of water slips over his boney hip, down his thigh, and my finger darts out to trace the trail it left behind. My ears pick up a soft gasp and I'm almost shocked at the lust-filled gaze that is overpowering Butters' facial features. I place my hand that's clutching the soapy wash cloth against my little buttercup's neck and slowly begin to stroke outward across his slim shoulders, down his sinewy arms, and back up his toned stomach and chest. I repeat the process on his other side before turning him around so his back is facing me, rubbing circles of soap across the span of his bare back. The lower my hand travels, the faster his breathing increases and by the time my hand grazes across the top of his arse, he's panting like a dog in heat.

I swipe the cloth over one of his plump, pert cheeks and tug his head backwards onto my shoulder to speak into his ear, "What's the matter, buttercup? Too hot for you?"

He whimpers delicately when my cloth-covered hand traces the crease of his arse and I force his legs to part in order to make room. My fingers just barely brush over his taut balls before veering in a different direction to smooth over his inner thigh. My hand slides out from between his legs to curl around his hip and I skim the substantially less soapy cloth across his lower stomach, just grazing the base of his pretty little erection. This elicits a startlingly loud moan from his usually bashful mouth and I almost stumble over the edge of the tub when his soapy, slippery arse rubs deliciously against my front. I wrap my hand, wash cloth and all, around his hard-on and harshly tug two, three times in torturous retaliation. Seeing him struggling with the simple task of standing, I grab his arm with my soap-free hand and carefully change our positions so that his chest is pressing against the cold tile of the shower. I pull his hips toward me and take delight in how his feet slide backward over the water-slicked tub until just his forehead and elbows are flattened against the tiled wall. My fingers blindly search for the body wash I put down only minutes before as my eyes refuse to look away from the image of debauchery displayed before me. The backs of my knuckles bump into the bottle I'm searching for and my desperate fingers clutch the body wash like a life line as I open it with a pop. His glazed over baby blues stare at me from under wet locks of golden blonde hair and I nearly miss my hand completely when I tip the bottle upside down. I slick my fingers with the apple scented body wash, dribbling an extra amount over his exposed arse.

"Oh, Jesus!" he cries when I slip one finger into his tight entrance, straight to the second knuckle. I slowly pump it in and out of him until I can work it all the way into his body, gripping his hip in my left hand when his inner walls clench around my finger.

"Shit, Butters. Relax a little or you aren't gonna enjoy this at all," I speak in a soothing voice while rubbing circles over his lower back to ease any discomfort. "Deep breaths."

I wait until his trembling body relaxes, then begin moving my finger at an even slower pace, increasing my rhythm until he's encouragingly pushing his hips back to meet my hand. I pause suddenly in my movements, finger half-thrust into Butters, and pat him on his shivering hip.

"I'm gonna add another, okay?" I don't wait for his response and instead shove a second finger in alongside the first; curling them both upwards to forcefully press against the one spot that leaves me just as breathless as it leaves him.

"Ah! Ke-Kenny, please. Right there!" he bawls as I torment that sweet little spot.

He writhes against my hand while my fingers scissor, stretch, and plunge repeatedly into his body. His back arches spectacularly on a particularly hard thrust of my fingers and his entire body shudders when my other hand sneaks around his hip to grasp his erection tightly, running my thumb through the leaking slit to spread pre-cum over his sensitive head. I see him turn his head to bite into the skin and muscle of his forearm and practically feel his little frame vibrating with pent up energy. He's stifling his wordless moans against his arm as my hand pumps his cock and my fingers thrust into his arse and it only takes a few more moments until he's spilling his load over my fingertips with an erotic mewling sound.

The wash cloth lies forgotten on the bottom of the bathtub and the spray from the shower head washes the remaining soap down the drain. I gently lower my panting lover to his knees and snort when he immediately slumps into the corner of the bath. Butters' thin fingers brush the water-soaked bangs off his forehead as I reach down to pick up the neglected piece of cloth crumbled near his feet. I soap the rag once more and quickly scrub myself clean, resolutely ignoring my painful hard-on, before I squat down beside Butters to rub the cloth over the skin I overlooked when I was previously washing him. His sated smile is comical and I can't keep the bubble of laughter from escaping through my mouth.

"Is my little buttercup happy, now?" I ask while leaning over his limp body.

He nods his head 'yes' and I wrap my fingers around his upper arm to drag him into a standing position under the cool spray of water. After I'm sure we are both clean of soap suds, I turn the dial to the 'off' position and help Butters climb over the lip of the tub. I leave him dripping wet in the middle of the bathroom to retrieve two towels from the tiny closet. Wrapping a towel around his shoulders, I tie my own towel around my slender hips before following him through the bathroom door back into his bedroom.

"I hope your parents didn't notice that we took a shower at the same time. That would be a little difficult to explain. Definitely not impossible, and I've always been up for a challenge," I state, winking lewdly at Butters.

"Oh, hamburgers, I'll be in so much trouble if they ever found out about us. They would de-definitely send me back to that g-gay camp," Butters stutters while he searches in his closet for a new outfit. His towel slips off his hips to reveal the back of his lower half when he reaches up to grab a pair of shorts off a hanger and I shove one of my knuckles in my mouth to keep myself from groaning aloud. My neglected cock twitches in interest, causing the head to graze the rough fabric of the towel and my hand travels downward on its own accord, pressing my palm tightly to my stubborn erection. I know my breathing is unsteady and erratic when he spins around to face me with a bright green shirt held up to his chest and a pair of cargo shorts held against his hips.

"What do you think of- Kenny?" he abruptly stops speaking and walks forward with his head cocked to one side. I collapse against the wall next to his bedroom door, moaning quietly at the way his boney hips sway side to side as he saunters towards me.

When he is within my reach, I snatch him by those sinful hips and tug him the rest of the way over the carpet, using his momentum to crash our bodies together. He gasps when my obvious arousal pokes against his thigh suggestively and I slump a bit on the wall when he rolls his hips upward. My hand shoots out toward the dresser a foot away from me and slaps the front of Butters' stereo, music blasting out of the speakers almost instantaneously to cover up any sound I might make. 3Oh!3 pounds out a heady beat and I forget to shake my head in exasperation of his choice in music because his lithe body immediately begins to move in smooth undulations against me. My hands grip his waist while I grind my erection into his upper thigh, my tongue laving a sensitive spot on his neck to keep those hips moving.

"Oh, God. I'm almost there," I moan into his throat, teeth clamping down gently as I try to force myself to remember to leave no marks on his perfect, often revealed, skin. His fingers sneak along my sides, dipping inward to trace along the v-shaped lines of my groin that protrudes from underneath my towel. He tugs said towel down enough to wrap those shy, thin fingers around my entire width, coaxing a choked moan from my constricted throat. With one hand groping his arse and the other cupping the back of his head, I shove my tongue into his open mouth to keep any more sounds from escaping my throat. Finally, his hand starts to move along my dick with tentative strokes and my teeth bite his lower lip harshly as I at last reach my limit.

I vaguely hear him whimper at my unexpectedly rough treatment and I force my jaw to unlock so that his abused lip could slide free from my sharp teeth. Gradually, my surroundings come back to me and I notice a fully clothed Butters busying himself with fixing his hair in the mirror. I slump the rest of the way to the floor and crawl on all fours to the corner where I threw my dingy clothes. Sluggishly pulling my shorts on over my boxers, I leave my battered shirt lying next to me as I sprawl onto my back, quite satiated. With a sigh, I tilt my head backward to watch Butters tame his blonde hair with colorful barrettes and hairclips, brushing it this way and that before clipping it back against his head.

"You do realize that I'm just going to rip them out of your hair later, right?" I say distractedly as gaze intently at him applying cherry red chapstick to his lips.

He smacks his lips with a loud pop and looks over his shoulder to give me a small smile. "It's more fun that way. You're pretty darn cute when you get frustrated over 'em."

"You conniving little-"

A knock at Butters' door interrupts me and I swivel my eyes towards the closed door, not even making a pretense to get up and open it. Mrs. Stotch's head pops in and her short blond hair dangles in loose curls around her time-aged face. She eyes my half naked body sprawled on her son's bedroom floor and immediately snaps her head up to look at Butters, who is still holding his uncapped chapstick between his index finger and thumb. Narrowing her sharp brown eyes but relaxing her tense shoulders, she clears her throat before opening her mouth to speak.

"Your father and I are going out to eat with a couple of our friends, Butters. I want you to behave yourself while we're gone," she says in a seemingly friendly voice.

"Kenny and I were gonna go hang out with some of the other fellas, if that's alright with you?" Butters asks anxiously, bumping his knuckles together in a way I haven't seen him do for years.

She smiles at him sincerely and jokingly asks, "Be home before dawn?"

Butters giggles and nods his head at his mother as she retreats back into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind her. He lets out a curious gust of air and my forehead crinkles in confusion when I sense his apprehension through his body language. _Why is he so nervous?_

I tuck away his abnormal behavior into the back of my mind to investigate later as he kneels down beside my head.

"Hey, Kenny? Do you just want to sleep here tonight? I don't want you to get all dehydrated and sick at your house, since you guys don't have air conditioning or anything."

My ears perk up a bit at that and my mouth automatically says, "Fuck yeah."

He smiles happily and a strange protective urge courses through my veins like wildfire. A sudden thought hits me and all of the voices racing through my mind stop to repeat one line: _Do everything to keep that smile on his face._ My hands palm his face to bring his lips down to my level and I place a gentle, almost innocent kiss to the side of his mouth. His smile breaks into an ecstatic grin and we sit on the floor together until we catch a glimpse of Butters' parents' car rolling out of the drive way through the opening in his curtains. We quickly scramble to our feet and I hastily throw my shirt over my head, pushing my arms through the holes before tugging it down over my hips. I follow his bouncy gait down his steps and out his front door to begin the short trek to Stark's Pond.

20 minutes later, we're walking across the grassy field across from Stark's Pond, searching for our seemingly M.I.A. friends. After a few minutes of searching, I hear a screech from my left and when I whip my head around, I burst out laughing from one of the most hilarious things I've ever seen in my life. Butters is flat on his ass with his hand gripping the place above his heart, glaring daggers at Craig, who has his fingers wrapped around the blonde boy's ankle. The brunette's manic grin is barely visible above the long, green grass and it is obvious that they have deliberately hidden themselves in the long grass in order to scare the shit out of one of us. Kyle and Stan's heads pop up a few feet to my right and Token's disembodied voice yells 'Who'd we get?' across the open air.

"You bastard!" I hear Butters half-laugh, half-scream at Craig and not a second later, the little blonde is chasing him around the open field, tossing open threats left and right.

Token's hand shoots out from the grass, giving his best friend a high five as he sprints past him, Butters tailing the brunette closely. I walk towards by two childhood friends and once I find them again in the tall grass, I kneel over Kyle's spread out body. With my hands planted on either side of his red curly head and my knees straddling his hips so that my body is encasing his slightly smaller one, I peer down into his hazy green eyes to gauge his intoxication.

"What's up, princess? Are ya having a fun time, yet?" I tease, eyeing him up and down. He snakes his arms around my neck as he nods his head slowly, a sated smile spreading across his lips in a lopsided manner.

"You smell so good," he murmurs as he tugs my head down to his face, deeply inhaling the scent of my neck. I laugh uncontrollably at the tickly sensation and use one of my hands against Kyle's chest to push him flat on his back so that his hands slacken and fall to rest on the tops of my thighs.

I glance to my left at Stan and ask, "How much has he had?"

Stan laughs at my question and holds up two fingers, "We shared two between us. The best of the best, too."

"Shit. This should be entertaining, at least." I card my fingers through Kyle's curls and smile when he leans into the caress before I turn my head to look at Stan again.

"Where the fuck is mine?"

He snorts at my impatient tone as his hand blindly pats the grass around him in search of the rolled up blunt he undoubtedly saved for me. While Stan lazily "searches" for my mind killer, my eyes scan the open field looking for the suddenly very quiet Butters. A blur of blond hair comes hurtling in my direction, but before Butters even gets the chance to tackle me (which I assume was his intention), Token snatches his light body out of the air by his waist and holds the squirming blond against his broad chest. I raise one of my eyebrows in confusion, but make no move to drag Butters to my side, instead curious to know what the hell was going on. Craig suddenly comes into view, yanking his shorts over his boxers in a hurried fashion, a blush tainting his cheeks a light pink.

"Class, settle down. We have a very important lesson to learn," Token says in a mockingly authoritative tone.

Kyle tips his head as far back as it will go and Stan abandons his search for my joint to roll over onto his stomach with a bemused look sketched on his face. With all eyes on Token, he gently places Butters on his feet and forces the blondette to remain still with a firm grip on his tiny hips. Hips that were mine to touch. Only mine. Before I get the chance to tell Token off, he voice cuts me off.

"Our lesson today is in the rules of payback."

"What the hell is going on?" Stan asks, blue eyes flickering between Token, Butters, and Craig.

"He fucking pantsed me!" Craig cries and points an accusing finger at my innocent Butters.

"You sc-scared the shit out of me! It was fair!" Butters yells back, only hesitating slightly at the beginning.

Stan and Kyle burst into simultaneous laughter and I can't help but let a small laugh slip at the out-of-characterness (Yes, I _just_ made that word up) of Craig's indignity and Butters' boldness.

"Alright, let's take a vote," Token demands, "Whoever thinks Butters should be pantsed, raise their hand."

My hand shoots into the air alongside Craig's and Butters gives me a pained expression at my betrayal. I just want to see his tight ass without those baggy pants in the way.

"And those who think Butters should be let free?"

Butters' hand flies up with Stan's and Kyle's and Token releases him to the safety of my arms.

"Aw, c'mon!" Craig shouts with a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as Butters sits safely beside me and Kyle.

"Majority rules! Case closed," Token dismisses Craig's yelling and tackles him to the grass in a flurry of limbs.

"I thought this was a classroom, not a courtroom," Kyle questions in a quiet voice and I brush my fingers down his face with a shushing noise laced with laughter.

"Found it!" Stan exclaims and I reach over to grab the joint dangling from his fingertips.

Digging into Kyle's front pocket, I ignore his giggling and pull out the lighter I know he always stashes there before crawling off of the Jew to coax my buttercup to lie back in the grass. Straddling Butters like I did with Kyle, I sit back on my heels to quickly light up, taking a deep drag off the stuffed full joint. I sneak my hand under Butters' neck to pull him onto his elbows and tilt my head in silent question as I hold the searing smoke in my lungs. With one small nod of his head, I crush our mouths together and blow the mind numbing smoke into his open mouth. He chokes a bit as his lungs try to force the intrusion back up his throat and little grey wisps of smoke leak out of the corners of his plump lips. There are a few blessed moments of silence until Kyle abruptly breaks it.

"I'm hungry," Kyle states and Stan stares at him incredulously.

"Kyle. We _just_ ate."

"I know, but I'm hungry again." His stomach growls as if to prove his point and Stan rolls his eyes dramatically.

"We haven't eaten dinner yet, so we'll be starving in… five minutes." I hear my voice speak, but I can't feel my mouth move.

"Make that 30 seconds," I amend, eyes locked onto Butters as I ride the first few startling waves of my high.

"It's fast, isn't it?" Stan inquires while waving his hand in front of my face and my eyes struggle to focus on his moving fingers. _How did he get over here so quickly?_

The world starts shaking in my vision and sheer panic flashes through me before I realize that I had stood up and started walking. Succumbing to the heightened sensations and leaving thoughts locked away in my mind, I'm forced by the weed to simply live second to second. Butters' fingers weave through mine and my mind clears a bit as his touch grounds me. Out of nowhere, Stan bounces under our entwined hands and wraps his arms around our shoulders.

"Let's go to my house. My mom just went grocery shopping a couple of days ago, and no one is in the house today. It's a perfect time to go on a quest for some munchies."

While walking the distance to Stan's house, my perception of time starts to waver, speeding up and slowing down everything around me in an erratic rhythm that I can't keep up with. My skin begins to tingle ever so slightly and it takes everything in my power to keep myself from toppling over. I gradually lose myself in an overload of sensations and trust my friends with guiding me safely to the Marsh's Residence as my eyes gaze unseeingly at the world around me. When I gain basic control over my senses again, my arm is elbow deep within a bag of chips as I sit in front of Stan's plush couch, staring at a blank T.V. screen. I feel arms squeeze around my midsection and when I look down, I'm shocked to see Kyle's vibrant red hair instead of Butters' blonde. His long leg is thrown over my outstretched ones while his head lies heavily against my stomach, the fingers of my left hand tangled in his messy hair.

Kyle shifts slightly as I remove my hand from his hair and his sleep-addled mind gives me a glimpse into his dreams when he mumbles, "But how are we going to carry the popcorn?"

I stare down at him for a few seconds wondering what the hell he was dreaming about before my eyes scan the empty room. "Where the fuck _is_ everyone?"

Soft giggling floats out of the kitchen and my ears perk up a bit at the sound of Butters' voice.

"Stan, it's dripping all over my fingers. Kenny isn't gonna like this. I need a napkin."

"Nah, dude, a napkin is just gonna get in your way. Use your tongue so it doesn't drip all over the floor. Yeah, just like that."

"It's so sticky," Butters whines and finally I throw Kyle's body off of mine to stomp into the kitchen, about ready to rip off Stan's head.

When I enter Stan's kitchen, I stop dead in my tracks as my eyes take in the scene in front of me. Butters is innocently licking vanilla ice cream off of his fingers, carefully tipping his ice cream cone this way and that while Stan eats his rapidly melting ice cream sandwich. Embarrassed at my immediate assumption, I scratch the back of my head as my face contorts to hold in my laughter and I shuffle my feet across the tiled floor to wrap my arms around Butters' waist from behind, rubbing my cheek between his shoulder blades.

"What time is it?" I mumble against the back of Butters' neck.

"7:58," Stan answers my question and I rest my chin on my buttercup's shoulder as I try to remember what happened over the span of almost an hour and a half.

Stan notices my quizzical expression and answers my unspoken questions, "It took us almost an hour to walk here because we kept getting distracted on the way and then you crashed with Kyle on the floor with a bag of chips. You were barely coherent, but happy so we left you alone and got some ice cream."

"Where's Token and Craig?" I just noticed the two boys were missing and I look around the kitchen as if they are hiding behind the appliances, waiting to jump out and scare me.

A crease forms between Stan's eyebrows, but his voice doesn't show any sign of confusion as he speaks. "Token said something about Clyde about 20 minutes ago and I haven't seen him since and Craig deserted us on the way to my house to go ambush Tweek."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Token and Clyde are hiding something from us."

Butters holds his ice cream up to my face expectantly, and I lean forward a bit to lick a long line up the side of the heaven-on-a-cone before taking a large bite off the top.

He pulls it away with an irritated huff and whines, "You aren't supposed to bite it! You're only allowed to lick it."

"That's what _he_ said," I snicker.

Butters' face burns a deep red and he stutters, "K-Kenny!"

I lightly smack his outer thigh before straightening myself, stepping to the side to rest my hand against his lower back. "We should probably get going soon. I don't want your parents to rip my balls off for forgetting to bring you back home at a decent time."

"You want me to drive you back? It's a pretty long walk from here." Stan shoves the rest of his ice cream in his mouth.

"I don't know about you buttercup, but I don't think we should walk."

His blonde hair falls over his eyes as he nods his head in agreement and I steer him around to walk back through the family room. Stan leads us outside to his car and we buckle ourselves into his black leather seats for the 10 minute drive to Butters' house. The ride is spent in relative silence as Butters devours the rest of his ice cream while speaking rapidly about girly gossip that Bebe and Wendy have been brainwashing him with. He stops speaking for a moment and I nearly piss myself when his head pops up in the space between mine and Stan's seat.

"I feel really active right now. Like, I feel like I'm burning calories just talking to you guys," Butters says in a chipper tone and it takes every bit of my will power to not laugh hysterically. Stan reaches his right hand behind him and pushes Butters face back forcefully, stealing a glance at me from the corner of his eye. I softly snort at Stan's concealed laughter, shaking my head as my best friend slowly pulls into the Stotch's driveway. After climbing out of my seat, I open Butters' door and yank him out of the car with a firm grip on the back of his neck and give my thanks to Stan for driving us home.

"No more weed for you, lightweight," I drawl as I drag his willing body up his front steps and into his house.

I pause just inside the door and cringe as realization hits me. _We forgot to lock the front door when we left…Whoops. _I shift my grip to wrap my fingers around his delicate wrist and lead him up his own steps and into his bedroom. I prop his body against the wall next to the door and kneel down in front of him to slip his flip-flops off and unbutton his shorts, pulling them down his toned legs. His fingers tangle in my hair and I look up to see him peering down at me with hooded eyes. I abruptly stand and force his wandering fingers out of my hair, pulling him away from the wall only to push him backwards onto his bed. I crawl on top of his sprawled out body, carefully removing the colorful barrettes and hair clips from his hair. I move to the other side of the bed to place them on his night stand and roll over on my back to shimmy out of my shorts before sitting up to tug my shirt over my head. I reach down to the bottom of Butters' bed to pull the thin blanket over us, curling around my fast asleep lover.

It is only minutes later that my ears pick up the sound of the garage door opening and closing, and two car doors slamming shut. _His parents must be home_, I think to myself as my legs kick and twitch slightly in restlessness. The sound of heels clicking across hardwood floor reaches my sensitive ears, soft murmuring of their uninterrupted conversation lulling me into a sort of half-sleep. My brain barely registers footsteps echoing up the staircase and my eyes slit open when they stop in front of Butters' door.

I see the silhouette of Mrs. Stotch outlined in the doorway, instinctively curling Butters' tiny body closer to mine. The light from the hallway is thrown across the bed and I automatically let my eyes fall shut to stop the brightness from blinding me. Right after I hear her soft sigh, I hear the outraged whisper of Mr. Stotch cry, 'What in God's name…' and then the sound of the door being shut swiftly. My ears strain as I try to listen to the hushed voices of Butters' parents through the door and the faint feeling of trepidation starts to coil deep in the pit of my stomach.

"But, Stephen…young and exploring options… no need… to conclusions… talk to him tomorrow," Mrs. Stotch's delicate voice floats through the closed door of Butters' room and I try desperately to hear his dad's part of the conversation over the haze in my mind.

"No…gone on long enough… all we need… send him back…next…and that's final." I hear even less than what Mrs. Stotch said and can feel myself slowly start to fade into the darkness that is overpowering my senses.

When I awake the next morning, I will have no idea of the obstacles and hardships that have been laid in my path towards Butters.

**(A/N): I LOVE that you guys are reading my stories and making them your favorite, sometimes alerting them as well. However, I can't help but be disappointed in the laughably small amount of reviews I've received. Do you guys hate my work that much? I would be absolutely ecstatic to hear exactly what you liked about whichever story, even if it's just a one-liner. I'm less motivated to update stories that are not being reviewed; even when I know hundreds of people are viewing them. That's not to say that I won't update unless I get a certain number of reviews, but it would certainly motivate me more if I were to open my mailbox and see "Review Alert" in lieu of "Fave Alert" or "Story Alert."**

**NOTICE: I am currently looking for Betas and Muses. I would gladly take any "applications" for either (or both) of these positions and only ask for your name, your past work, and your history with being a beta. I will also gladly reciprocate my business.**


	8. Custom Concern

**Disclaimer: South Park, all South Park characters, settings, and events belong to the makers of South Park, Matt Stone and Trey Parker. Sometimes, I just like to play with the grown-up versions of their boys. **

**(A/N): So, this just fell into my lap after listening to Eminem's new album, Recovery. I think it was also partially inspired by another fanfic, but I can't remember the name or what it was about. The first part basically wrote itself, I didn't have many problems with it until the end. OMG THERE'S PLOT! Yes, there's an actual point to this story.**

**Need opinions: Should I put San Diego on Hiatus until I finish this and/or Hold Your Breath? If I get no response to this question, I will automatically put it on hold until I've finished at least one of the others, so if you are really that desperate for it to continue, please speak now or forever hold your peace. **

**Dedicated to Luckystar27 who was the first to review the last chapter - thank you for the kind words!**

**Enjoy. **

The sound of glass shattering against the wall outside my bedroom has me jolting awake and I groggily raise my head from my pillow, eyeing my bedroom door suspiciously at the eerie silence that ensues. I pull my phone from my pocket to check the time, groaning when the numbers 5:38 shine back at me innocently. Whispers leak beneath my door and I wait anxiously for the yelling to begin, resigning to the fact that I won't fall back asleep for some time. My head snaps up when I hear my brother scream something unintelligible and I quickly roll of my bed the instant my ears pick up heavy footsteps approaching my room, catching my fall on the tips of my toes and the flat of my palms, sliding beneath the bed just as my bedroom door opens with a resounding crack. _Fuck,_ I think to myself, face pressing harshly into the floorboards, the metal bed frame digging painfully into my back, _I'm not as tiny as I used to be._ Thick-soled boots thud closer and closer to my bed and I squeeze my eyes shut tight, catch my last breath of air, and wait for the explosion that's soon to come. I hear someone drop to their knees and I open one of my eyes cautiously, only to see the dirty and bruised face of my older brother. Sighing with relief at his sparkling smile, I crawl out from under my bed and brush the dust from my shorts.

I run my fingers through my tangled hair and mutter, "What the hell was that all about?"

"Dad drank too much, again. His hollerin' woke up Karen an' he tried to git her for bein' up so late," Kevin's redneck slur calms my frayed nerves.

"Is she okay? He didn't hit her did he? I swear to God, if he laid a finger on her…" I trail off.

Kevin smirks at my protective words and ruffles my already messy hair. "She's fine. Mom got her back t' her room an' I knocked dad out b'fore he could cause any more trouble. …Still hiding under yer bed from dad?"

I scoff at his mocking words and flick one of his bleeding wounds, "For your information, dad never even thinks of checking under the bed. He never did. I don't even think he knows that I can _fit_ under my bed."

I pause as I examine his battered face and sigh exhaustedly, brain working furiously to come up with another plan to get both me and my baby sister out of this hell house.

"Let's clean your face up a bit, yeah?" I ask, the overwhelming feeling of helplessness forcing me to get up and do _something_.

I drag him to the only bathroom in the house and push him down to sit on top of the toilet, wetting a semi-clean dish rag to wipe the dirt, blood, and sweat from his face and neck. _Soak, ring, wipe, repeat_. The words circle in my head, running over one another again and again, twisting and curling to create a warped rhyme that I start to bob my head to and his eyes drop shut with the normality of our routine. Soon, the rag is dirtier than his face is and the words slow and change and the rhythm drops. _Wipe, drop, sigh, end._ My fingers automatically wrench one of the draws open to seek out the first-aid kit I hid a few weeks ago, eyes watching my brother tip his head back in fatigue. I smear ointment on the worst of his cuts, carefully sticking the bandages over the still bleeding wounds, fingers petting his dirty hair to signal when I'm finished. Brown eyes are suddenly staring straight at me and I'm taken aback at the intensity of his stare.

"Wh-"

"When the fuck did you get so affectionate?" he cuts my question off with a quiet voice, his mocking tone no longer apparent.

"…What do you mean?"

His hard brown eyes do a once over of me and I lean my hip against the chipped counter, "That was the gentlest you've ever been. S'not like you is all."

My eyes dart around the tiny room in search of a decent explanation, a good lie, a witty comeback, _anything_.

"Shit, what's her name?"

I wince and tug my bottom lip between my teeth. His tenor laugh echoes in the enclosed space of the bathroom and I unnaturally blush in embarrassment.

"Alright, what's _his_ name, then?"

I groan, hiding my burning face in my hands, not able to believe that I'm having this conversation with my brother. "If dad ever finds out I'm screwing another boy, he's going to beat me so fucking hard I won't be able to walk for a week."

"_Fuck_ what dad thinks, Ken. The kid is obviously doin' you good," his mocking tone is back as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

I laugh and point my thumb over my shoulder, "Go to fucking bed, Kevin."

As he passes me, he uncharacteristically cups my cheek and places a soft kiss on my forehead, disappearing down the hall so fast that I could have sworn I imagined the whole thing. Shaking my head, I turn around and walk back to my bedroom, flipping my phone open as I lay back against my tattered pillow. The kid who has apparently been turning me into a hug softy hasn't spoken to me in days. My outgoing calls read the same name over and over and over, _Buttercup, Buttercup, Buttercup_, and my finger punches the little green button once more, the automated voice instantly reaching my ears, telling me useless shit that makes me want to chuck my phone across the room.

_It didn't even ring that time_, I think to myself, worry sitting heavily in the pit of my stomach.

The morning after I spent the night at his house was the last time I had seen his smiling face and I didn't think anything of it when his dad ignored me during breakfast or even the nervous glances his mom kept shooting at me. Now, I see them as clear as day and I curse under my breath as I jump straight out of my bed and through my open window in horrified realization, running full pelt through the backyards of my neighbors as if the hounds of hell were nipping at my heels. Shirtless and shoeless, I don't stop running until I reach Butters' backyard, feet throbbing in pain and skin tightening at the cool morning air. I chuck a pebble at Butter's window and wait a few moments before I throw another, not stopping until I see one of his lamps flick on. His pajama-clad body appears as he parts the curtains and a look of pure happiness flashes across his face before it's distorted by fear and sadness. I'm immediately climbing up the conveniently placed tree beside his window and he yanks the window up so that I can pull myself through it. The second my feet touch carpet, I wrap my arms around his shaking body and tuck his head beneath my chin, sighing when I feel wetness against my skin.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I should have figured it out sooner, especially when you didn't answer any of my texts or calls," I whisper into his hair, tears forming in my eyes while listening to his heart-wrenching sobs.

My eyes rove over his room, spotting several suitcases and travel bags pushed up against his wall and I push him away with my hands gripping his upper arms.

"What's going on? Why are your bags packed? Are they sending you away? Butters?" my voice raises in pitch with each question, and all Butters gives me is more tears. It takes him a couple of tries before sound rips from his throat.

"M-my d-dad found o-out about us! He knows t-that I'm g-gay! He's sending me b-back!"

Butters stutters over his words through his sobbing and I press his tear-stained face to my chest, fingers running through bright blond hair to try and calm him. I rub his back soothingly, whisper lies about how everything is going to be okay, and wait until his sobbing settles to soft whimpering. I am so absorbed in comforting my little blonde that I fail to notice his bedroom door open until it is too late. His mother quietly shuts the door behind her and she stands in front of it, her face filled with conflicting emotions; fear, doubt, hope, resolution, determination. I hesitantly take a step backwards to the open window, ready to flee at any moment, but stop when she holds her hands up in desperation.

"Wait, don't go. I'm not the one who wants to send my little butterscotch back to that ridiculous camp," she speaks in a soft, but clear voice and walks further into the room.

She pulls a thick, white envelope from her dressing gown and shoves it in my hand, forcibly wrapping my fingers around it so that I have no choice but to take it. I cock my head to the side in question and she genuinely smiles at me.

"You've always treated Butters with the utmost respect and care. I couldn't think of anyone else who could take such good care of my little baby. I found an apartment for the two of you to stay at until his father stops acting like an idiot. Take the money, you'll need it; but don't blow it all on useless things."

Butters twists around in my arms to face his mother and when she speaks again, it's directed to her only son.

"There isn't anything wrong with whom you love, sweetheart. I always believed Kenneth was an excellent boy, and he never did you wrong. Go. Leave before your daddy wakes up. Take your bags, take the money, and run. I'll do my best to make sure he can't find you."

Butters leaps out of my arms and into his mother's, tears streaming down both of their faces with overwhelming emotions. Mrs. Stotch kisses her son on both of his cheeks, once on his forehead, and lastly on his lips before she drops car keys into Butters' hand and ushers us both out the window, tossing us his bags as soon as we reached the dew-covered grass.

Her dark blonde hair twirls in the light breeze as she leans out the open window. "I love you, butterscotch. Be careful, alright?"

She disappears from the window and I tear the envelope open to find a large sum of hundred dollar bills staring back at me, as well as a little folded piece of paper with a key taped to it. I take the paper and key out and shove the envelope into my back pocket, motioning for Butters to grab his bags. We sneak around the front of his house to his car and I silently place his suitcases into the backseat, take his keys from his trembling hand and open the passenger door for him, waiting until he buckles his seatbelt to quietly shut the car door.

Once in the driver's seat, I start his little black Honda, slowly roll it out of the driveway, and accelerate down the street, only turning the headlights on when I'm certain we're far enough away to not draw any attention. Without having any exact destination in mind, I drive around for a solid 30 minutes until I finally stop the car in front of my own house. I unfold the piece of paper sitting delicately in my lap and my eyes flicker over the elegant handwriting of Butters' mother.

_Southside Apartment Complex  
1707 Maple Street  
Apt. # 137  
South Park, CO_

_The apartment is fully furnished and  
I filled your pantry with food and drinks.  
Don't worry about paying the rent._

_With Love,  
Linda Stotch_

"I fucking love your mom, dude. She seriously cares about you."

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I nearly curse in surprise, pulling it out to answer it. I don't even get a word out before my brother's voice cuts me off.

"What the hell are ya doin'? You disappeared for a good hour, came back in a car that definitely isn't yers and now yer idlin' in front of the house like a stalker. Who's that kid in the passenger seat?"

"Butters. My-never mind, I don't have time for this. I'm coming in to get some of my stuff; I'll explain it to you then."

I tell Butters to remain in the car before I jog to my front door, not surprised when it opens as soon as I reach it. Kevin's face stares back at me when he shuts the door quietly and I almost laugh at the out of place look of seriousness etched onto his features. Walking past him and into my bedroom, I throw a tattered bag onto my bed and begin shoving clothes into it, not even bothering to look at the shit I'm putting in it, just wanting to leave as quickly as possible.

"I'm leaving. I don't know when I'll be back, but I do know that I will be eventually, for Karen. Butters is in some deep shit with his dad and we need to disappear for a while. Tell mom and dad I died or I'm in jail - Something convincing. I'll call you with the details later, alright?"

"I'll trust ya know watcha doin' and leave ya to it. Just be safe baby bro, a'ight?"

I smirk over my shoulder and tug the stubbornly old zipper closed, running back out of the house to toss my long bag into the back seat of the rumbling Honda. Skidding off of the curb, I pull away from the house I so desperately wanted to run away from just an hour ago, but with one person short. I glance at the review mirror, trusting Kevin enough to take care of Karen until I come back for her and take her away from the shit hole that I grew up in. Butters curls closer to me and his arm loops through mine as I place my hand on his knee, rubbing soothing circles over the exposed skin. His tears have stopped for now, but the occasional sniffle reminds me of our situation as I speed away from the fucked up life behind us, eager to hide away my little buttercup, keep him safe, keep him alive, and keep him happy. Part of me wished it was as easy as it sounded. Part of me knew that this was just the beginning and the real hell has yet to rear its dangerous head.

**(A/N): I LOVE that you guys are reading my stories and making them your favorite, sometimes alerting them as well. However, I can't help but be disappointed in the laughably small amount of reviews I've received. Do you guys hate my work that much? I would be absolutely ecstatic to hear exactly what you liked about whichever story, even if it's just a one-liner. I'm less motivated to update stories that are not being reviewed; even when I know hundreds of people are viewing them. That's not to say that I won't update unless I get a certain number of reviews, but it would certainly motivate me more if I were to open my mailbox and see "Review Alert" in lieu of "Fave Alert" or "Story Alert."**

**NOTICE: I am currently looking for Betas and Muses. I would gladly take any "applications" for either (or both) of these positions and only ask for your name, your past work, and your history with being a beta. I will also gladly reciprocate my business.**


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